


Eyes and Stage Fright

by Silverofyou



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Pre-Split, Ryden, split
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 10:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6901816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverofyou/pseuds/Silverofyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was just on the edge of the side of the stage, the rest of the band already on it. This wasn’t stage fright, that much he knew, but something different, something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes and Stage Fright

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago as the prologue of a fic I was planning to write, but I literally couldn't think of how to write the first chapter. I do think this was too good to just discard so I decided to post it as a one shot.  
> Who knows, maybe if I get inspired or some shit I'll finish the fic and make this the prologue again. I'll let you know, I guess.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> PS, I am only half sorry for all the angst ^_^

He wouldn’t know how to describe it, the sinking feeling that overcame him since the beginning of the show. He didn’t know where it came from, but suddenly his hands were shaking, and he felt a cold sweat running down the back of his neck. He was just on the edge of the side of the stage, the rest of the band already on it. This wasn’t stage fright, that much he knew, but something different, something _else._ His eyes searched frantically for the other pair of eyes that was supposed to be expecting him across the stage, but he couldn’t find them. They weren’t expecting him. He felt a knot climbing up his throat, and he was pretty sure he was going to be sick. But there was a show to play, whether those eyes were expecting him or not, so he swallowed hard, and walked into the blinding white lights, with the roar of the crowd drowning every single one of his thoughts.

 

***

 

He tried taking deep breaths; drank a lot of water, drank a lot of beer. Nothing worked, and it got to the point where his breathing was short and shallow, and he was shivering. He didn’t feel sick, however-- not physically, at least. But the absence of those eyes… He knew it was that what was causing this. He tried looking for them during the 2 hours they were onstage, but they were avoiding, and he couldn’t find them. He didn’t know what was wrong, didn’t know what was going on, but he was _scared._ That was it, the word he was looking for.

Scared he might never find them again.

He stood up from the couch he had been sitting on for the past 20 minutes, and walked over to where he knew the owner of those hiding eyes would be. He found him leaning against the dirty-white wall of the locker rooms, smoking. He saw the owner, but he didn’t see the eyes.

“Ryan?” he asked softly, stopping a few meters away from him and hesitating before taking one more step. The boy didn’t react, just kept taking drags of his cigarette, staring down at the floor. “Ry.”

He was starting to feel his heart speed up in his chest, that cold sweat sliding down his spine again, the shivering taking over his body. He was yearning to see that pair of eyes, that pair of eyes he hadn’t seen in almost two days, like an addict who hasn’t had a dose in a while.

But finally, _finally,_ they’re there. They were there, as brown-green as he remembered them, as deep and hypnotic as they always had been.

“Yeah.” Ryan said, taking the cigarette out of his mouth, looking at him expectantly. But his eyes weren’t inviting; they were blank and devoid of their usual brightness.

“Are you, uh--. Is… Is everything okay?”

Ryan met his eyes, his expression blank.

“I don’t know, Brendon. Is it?” he answered in a monotone. Brendon felt his breath hitch in his throat, and a burning sensation behind his eyes, but he blinked repeatedly, pushing it back. He had no idea what was going on, but somehow, he’d seen it coming. And not only after the cold sweat before the show, but for a few days now. Those eyes had met his own less and less, and he knew something was wrong. But these last two days had been a nightmare; not only he hadn’t seen the eyes, but he’d barely seen the owner, too.

Ryan detached himself from the wall, and took a step towards Brendon. Brendon instinctively took a step back, regretting it instantly. Ryan squinted his eyes and took one more step forward, and Brendon had to _literally_ bite the inside of his cheek to avoid backing away again. “Is there something wrong, Brendon? You tell me.”

He was speaking slowly, softly, but there was a sharp edge to his words. Brendon’s heart skipped a bit, and he swallowed hard.

“I-- I don’t know. Ryan, what’s going on? You’re scaring me,” and he was. Brendon took a step forward hesitantly, and saw Ryan’s shoulders tense. He stopped. “Ry?”

“Goddammit, no! No, everything’s not okay! In fact, nothing is!” he exploded, and Brendon took two steps back. “I-- I don’t even know what’s wrong, I just-- Agh! Why is this so hard? I just-- I just can’t stand on that stage, following your-- your games and then-- then just bear seeing you with her, and is this really all just a game to you? She might be okay with this, but I’m not! Either you go all the way or you don’t do anything, but I won’t be your-- your _sex_ toy, your-- your distraction! I’m your best friend, Brendon, and I deserve more than that! And I can’t-- I _won’t_ go on with this,” Ryan finished, breathing heavily, running his hands through his hair. His eyes were full of rage and hurt. Somewhere along the rant, Brendon had backed away a few more steps, and somewhere along the rant, his eyes had started to water, and now there were streams of water falling from his eyes. They were tears of confusion from all the yelling and accumulated stress and tiredness rather than anything else.

He was speechless. He had no words for what Ryan had just said, because although he knew something was wrong, he had no idea it was _this._

“Is-- Is that really what you think? Do you really think so little of yourself, Ryan?” Brendon asked in a small voice, not even bothering to wipe his cheeks. He closed his eyes and shook his head, and when he opened them again, Ryan’s eyes were shining with unshed tears.

“What else do you want me to think, when you only touch me on stager, or drunk, or when you’re bored or depressed? What else do you want me to think, Brendon, when every single time you go back to her, every night, pretending nothing happened?”

“You know it’s not like that!” Brendon insisted. “I-- You know that what I feel about you is so much more than that. Ryan, it’s _so much more…_ But Sarah… She’s… I can’t let her go, Ryan, you know I can’t, you of all people should understand… And you know that doesn’t change what I feel about you at all!”

“But that’s the point, Brendon!” Ryan said, letting out a desperate laugh. “That’s exactly the point! If you felt what you say you feel, you wouldn’t be doing this to me, to yourself!” He took a deep breath, and in two steps he was in front of Brendon, his hands cupping his cheeks rather roughly. “I can’t do this anymore, Brendon. I’m sorry. You-- you know you’re everything to me, you know it, but I can’t bear the knowledge that it is a one-sided feeling. I’m so sorry, Bren, but… I… I quit.”

 

***

 

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY?!” Ryan flinched as the words left Pete’s mouth, and Brendon fought the urge to intervene. Ryan had made it pretty clear: he didn’t want _anyone,_ especially not Brendon, to try to change his mind. Jon and Spencer were sitting at the other end of the table, looking somber but keeping quiet. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK THIS IS?! A FUCKING JOKE?!”

“No.” Ryan said simply. “But my contract only included two albums, which I already did, and one tour for each, and the last one only has 2 shows to go. I’ll play the shows, I’ll finish the tour, interviews and all, but I’m not coming back, Pete. I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Pete Wentz threw his hands up in exasperation. “Fine then! Okay! Do whatever the fuck you want! I kill my ass for this fucking band and this is what you do?! Does anyone else want to quit or what?!”

It was a rhetorical question, they all knew that. But that didn’t stop Jon from standing up, too. Brendon widened his eyes, saying nothing, and Ryan let out a small gasp. Spencer remained sitting, his eyes fixed on the table surface. When looking back at Pete, what Brendon saw could only be described as Pete’s eyes almost falling out of their sockets.

“WHAT?! WHY DO _YOU_ WANT TO QUIT?!”

Jon took a deep breath, scratched the back of his head. “I wanna go with Ryan,” he mumbled. Brendon saw him flick his eyes toward Spencer momentarily, but it was so subtle and so quickly he thought maybe he had imagined it.

“SPEAK LIKE A MAN! I CAN’T HEAR YOU FROM HERE!” Pete was seriously losing it. Brendon had never seen the guy scream in such a way, and he was surprised that such a strong voice could come from such a small body. In other circumstances, it would have been amusing.

“I wanna go with Ryan,” Jon repeated, louder this time. “I have no idea why Ryan is leaving, but the press will want a reason. We can just say there were creative differences that intervened in the band’s development so we decided to part ways. That will be more credible if two of us leave, instead of only one,” he explained. They were all looking at him with wide eyes, mouths slightly open.

After a few moments, Jon sat back down, sinking in his chair. Pete snapped out of it first, rubbing his temples and closing his eyes. Brendon kind of pitied him in that moment.

“I-- Fuck, I can’t even begin--” he cut himself off and took a deep breath, opening his eyes. “Okay then. If that’s what you want to do. We’ll have to talk to the rest of the label, set up interviews to announce the split… Yeah, I’ll figure out a way to handle that. Just-- whatever your reasons are, Ryan, please just sort your shit out. Fuck.”

And with that, Pete Wentz left the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Thanks,” Ryan breathed out, addressing Jon. Jon said nothing, just nodded once. He _did_ know the reason Ryan was leaving, but said nothing about it. Spencer, having lifted his eyes from the table, stood up and walked up to Ryan, putting a hand on his shoulder. He gave it a little squeeze, then moving up to Brendon.

“C’mon,” he said. Brendon looked up at him and took the hand he was offering him, his shoulders slumped. Spencer lead the way out of the room, and Brendon followed, stopping only to convince himself not to look back, because then he wouldn’t find that pair of eyes and it would make everything a thousand times worse.

 

***

 

“You know I love you, Bren” Spencer said, running his hands through the other boy’s hair as he was curled on his lap, his head resting on Spencer’s shoulder, staring at some point beyond him, his eyes stinging but dry. “But you brought this on yourself,” he added, not without kindness. Brendon felt a new sob building inside his chest, and apparently Spencer sensed it too, because he kind of started to awkwardly rock him back and forth. “But it’s okay, it’s okay,” he hurried softly. “It’s okay, and we’ll figure this out. We’ll keep on with the band, no one has to know the reason, okay? Jon has a plan. It’s okay.”

“I’m such an idiot, Spence,” Brendon whimpered, burying his face in the crook of Spencer’s neck. “He’s right to leave. He doesn’t deserve any of this.” A pause. “Don’t let me see him again, Spencer. Please, whatever you do, don’t let us meet again.”

Spencer stayed quiet, and Brendon didn’t dare to look up at him.

“Okay,” he said at last, pressing his cheek to Brendon’s head. “Okay, I won’t.”


End file.
